


fibonacci

by cloudsovercalifornia



Category: Halt and Catch Fire, Silicon Valley (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Sex, Crossover, Daddy Kink, Frottage, Joe MacMillan/Richard Hendricks, M/M, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-07
Updated: 2017-10-07
Packaged: 2019-01-10 05:14:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12292041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cloudsovercalifornia/pseuds/cloudsovercalifornia
Summary: Thanks to a magical plot device, the Pied Piper gang accidentally travels to Dallas in the year 1983. The ensuing events at Cardiff Electric break Richard’s brain.Takes place after SV season 4 finale / HCF after 1x04 but before 1x05. AU where Erlich is back. Mainly Richard/Gavin with some Richard/Joe.





	1. baby shark

Of course the incubator’s AC unit would break down during a record-breaking heat wave in the Valley. _Of course._

Richard tugged at his hair in frustration. Bad idea. Very sweaty. So much gross. He could feel his pulse in his entire face. It was too hot to think, and, evidently, too hot for his code to work. If only the phrase “at least it’s a dry heat!” did something useful, like debug his code, instead of pissing him off. Looking around the table, he saw he was the only one who was going insane. Dinesh and Gilfoyle were lightly sweating in their T-shirts but otherwise unperturbed. Least dressed of them all was Erlich, who was meandering around in his underwear enjoying two Otter pops: an orange one in his left hand and a blue one in his right hand.

“Erlich, can you not… pace around like that.” Richard cursed. Another typo. His fingers were slipping on the stupid sweaty keys. God damn it. Maybe solving global warming was a worthier pursuit than decentralizing the internet.

Erlich schlepped over to Richard. “Richard, the male physical form in its prime is something to be celebrated, not hidden away under layers of shame.” He gestured meaningfully at Richard with the orange Otter pop. “You, of all people, should be familiar with this concept.”

“What-” Richard began, but Erlich cut him off.

“ _Eduardo_ the AC repairman should be here in about four hours. A busy man, this _Eduardo_. By the way, he quoted me $180 for the troubleshooting alone. I do not expect any monetary contributions from you lot, but I would not be so rude as to refuse them, given my history of magnanimity.”

 _Four hours!_ Richard screamed internally.

Gilfoyle paused his music (which sounded like cats in heat being thrown into a woodchipper) and removed his headphones in anticipation of a Pied Piper Mental Breakdown™. Sure enough, Richard delivered: still screaming internally, he stood up, ripped his shirt off, and made clawing motions at his neck, as if he could rip his skin off, too.

The door swung open; in walked Jared with a desk fan tucked under each arm. He was freakishly dry and cool in his usual button-down shirt and trousers.

“Sorry for the delay guys, there was quite a…” Jared trailed off at the sight of Richard’s exposed torso. His face went blank as his brain manually rebooted.

Richard made a beeline for the shower.

* * *

The blast of the car’s AC was like the breath of an ice angel. He should have done this sooner. After the much-needed shower, Richard had made a flimsy excuse to leave the house. Another perk: his hair had dried instantly during the walk from the door to his Uber ride. He sat with his head firmly pressed against the headrest to avoid the waves of heat penetrating the windshield. The driver pulled up at his destination and dropped him off without a word (a five-star driver indeed). Richard stepped out into the oven that was Palo Alto. Braced himself. This was fine. This would be fine.

Entering the Hooli building gave Richard a little mundane thrill of danger. Gavin had made him a badge a while ago, but he had avoided using it until now. He preferred meeting Gavin at his house (but even then, what if there was some creepy paparazzo holed up in the professionally trimmed bushes? He couldn’t not think about these things). He kept his head down low and walked with a sense of purpose, but that didn’t stop a few people from staring at him as he made his way to the elevator.

Gavin’s office had been rearranged, Richard noted from where he was standing outside the room. Gavin was staring intently at his monitor. Richard sent him a quick text, watched his Hooli phone light up on the desk. Gavin looked up through the window. Ah, there it was. That jet-black stare that pierced Richard’s soul. Being around Gavin had turned his soul into, like, Swiss cheese, basically.

“I had my office rearranged. Got a new desk, too,” Gavin said, as he let Richard in. “Do you like it? I find it much more conducive to the flow of mental energies. And… other things.” He smiled a little baby shark smile.

“”S okay, I guess.” Richard made a motion to shove his hands in his hoodie pockets, except he wasn’t wearing a hoodie for once.

“I have something for you.” Gavin went over to his desk drawer.

Richard shifted uncomfortably. “Oh. Are-are we that kind of thing now…”

Gavin gave him a withering, extra soul-stabby look. “It’s just a trinket, Richard. To relieve your stress.” He pressed the object into Richard’s hands. It was a lightweight circular disc of wood, thinner than his phone, painted with a string of Chinese characters in a spiral pattern.

“I picked it up on my last spiritual retreat. You’re supposed to place it above a door frame in your house. When you walk through the threshold, you leave behind the past. That way, you can exist in the present, and your spirit will be centered exactly at home.”

Richard looked down at the disc. It was a tasteful enough piece, but he had no intention of giving the magical crap any credence. “Um. Thanks. What does it say?”

“I’m afraid I only know modern simplified Chinese,” Gavin replied. “These are ancient Chinese symbols. Make sure you hang it upside-down, though.”

“Upside-down, got it,” Richard said, without thinking. There would be no more thinking, not when the scent of Gavin’s cologne was frying his thought processors. This was how it went, the little game they played. They would meet up, innocent and business-like, as if neither of them knew what was bound to happen. Then came the waiting, the white-hot tension. Sometimes Richard cracked first. Other times, it was Gavin.

Gavin swiped something on his phone screen and said, “Close the blinds.”

 _“I’m sorry. I didn’t catch that. Say it again?”_ said a female voice from his phone.

Irritated, Gavin held the phone closer to his face and repeated, “Close. The. Blinds.”

_“I’m sorry. I didn’t catch that. Say it again?”_

“Fucking piece of-”

_“Loading Hooli Map results for ‘Pho King Noodle House’ in San Jose. Head north on-”_

Richard made himself useful by going to the windows that faced the inside of the building and pulling the blinds shut. (There were, of course, no blinds for the windows facing out into the city. Gavin Belson was one lucky drone away from a PR nightmare.) Deja vu crept up on him. Trying to dig up the source memory made his head hurt, so he pushed the feeling aside.

“I’ve got ten minutes before my next meeting,” Gavin said, and it shouldn’t have been a sexy thing to say, but holy fuck... Richard bit his lip.

Gavin crossed the room in three strides, hooked his fingers in Richard’s belt loops, and yanked him flush against his body. Richard suddenly didn’t mind feeling hot all over. He attacked Gavin with a kiss, aggressive and desperate, like he would drown without Gavin’s air. Gavin, sharp-teethed, grinned against Richard’s mouth. Richard thoroughly licked the lingering raspberry kombucha flavor off Gavin’s tongue. Gavin pushed him over toward the desk until he was braced against the edge. Richard hesitated.

“What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know. I feel like we’ve done this before.”

Gavin laughed. “Of course we have.”

He kissed Richard open-mouthed, effectively ending that conversation. Smirking when Richard moaned, Gavin lifted him by the hips onto the desk. Show-off. Richard briefly mourned the lack of papers to sweep off the desk. Gavin tugged hard at Richard’s curls, forcing him to expose his neck to Gavin’s punishing teeth and tongue (but he stopped just shy of bruising Richard’s skin). Richard gasped when Gavin bit down on his earlobe; not to be outdone, he hooked his legs around Gavin in order to grind their hips together. Gavin reached down and undid Richard’s jeans like he was ripping open a present.

He paused to admire his masterpiece: the CEO of Pied Piper spread out on his desk, hair tousled, lips swollen, exposed cock leaking precome into his navel. Fuck, this boy was a piece and a half. He almost didn’t care if or where Richard’s dick wandered – no one else could unravel Richard Hendricks like he could.

Gavin shucked his own trousers and briefs and flipped Richard over so that he was braced against the desk, back facing Gavin. Gavin reached around him to grab the lubricant from his desk drawer. _Is that new too?_ Richard wondered. 

Gavin warmed up some lube in his hand and began working on Richard’s entrance. As usual, Richard was hot inside, and tight enough to cut off the circulation in Gavin's fingers. Whenever Richard was feeling particularly surly, he would shut Gavin down at this step and threaten to go home. Today, though, he welcomed the painful bliss of Gavin’s touch. Gavin replaced his fingers with the tip of his cock. Richard panted as Gavin sunk into him.

Gavin wrapped his hand around Richard’s throat and applied pressure to the sides, causing Richard to buck against him. He started pounding into Richard in earnest, slow and deep, then fast and hard. Richard bit his lip, nearly drawing blood. Gavin’s brutal thrusts against his prostate made it impossible to be silent. When he moaned for the first time, Gavin punished him with an ass smack, which only caused Richard to moan again, louder. He received a longer spanking for that. This was not a game he could win. Gavin tightened his grip around Richard’s neck; Richard fell silent, overwhelmed by the heady rush.

Richard was starting to feel tortured. He had been on the cusp of coming for an eternity condensed in a minute, but each time he reached down to touch himself, Gavin batted his hand away.

“Please, daddy. I need to come.”

“Not yet. Don't be greedy.”

Richard made a whining noise. Gavin spanked his reddened ass cheeks at will. He glanced at the clock on the wall - it was about time.

Gavin brushed his lips over Richard’s ear. “I didn't even lock the door. Anyone could walk in right now and see you like this, all broken and perfect.”

Richard’s orgasm caught him off-guard, ripped through his body in shuddering waves so violent that his eyes welled up with tears. Gavin clamped a hand over Richard’s mouth to muffle the obscene sounds he was making. After Richard's last pulsating jolt around Gavin’s cock, Gavin pulled out. Richard slumped against the desk, trembling.

“You came all over my brand new desk.”

“Yeah. What did you think would happen?”

Richard gasped with surprise/pleasure when Gavin slapped him. 

“Brat.” Gavin put his hand on Richard’s head and pushed down until Richard was kneeling in front of the desk.

While Gavin stroked himself, Richard lapped up his own spilled speed. After he finished with the desk, he licked up the errant drops on the floor, looking up at Gavin for approval. Gavin's breath hitched at the sight of Richard's orgasm tears clinging to his eyelashes and trickling from the corners of his eyes.

Feeling his balls tighten, Gavin rasped, “Good boy. Daddy’s got another gift for you.”

Richard crawled over to receive it.


	2. diamondback

After making Gavin two minutes late for his meeting (it shouldn’t have been _that_ hard to talk him out of making Richard do a “cum walk”), Richard left the Hooli building feeling relaxed for the first time, since, well, the last time he fucked Gavin Belson.

Richard returned home and found everyone in the same state as before, except for Jared. Jared seemed more concerned about Relaxed Richard than Regular Richard. Richard mumbled something about an antique shop and excused himself to the kitchen. After digging around in the junk drawer, he found an almost-empty duct tape roll, and used the last piece to secure the Chinese disc thing to the wall above the door frame. There, that was upside-down, right? Or was it right-side up? But if upside-down was right-side up, then… Richard shook his head. It didn’t matter. It was a spiral pattern.

To his surprise, Erlich did not protest the decoration. Jared complimented the “office’s new look.”

“Do you hear something?” Dinesh said. He got out of his seat and went to peer through the window curtains. “Whoa… you guys, come look at this.”

Gilfoyle stayed put. Jared and Richard went over to the window.

“Looks like a diamond-back rattlesnake fighting a jack rabbit,” Jared breathed. “But that jack rabbit - he’s a big ‘un, and he’s putting up a darn good fight.”

This was enough to pique Gilfoyle’s interest, and he joined them at the window.

“Maybe we should help? Look at that poor fluffy bunny,” Dinesh said, eyes wide.

Gilfoyle shook his head. “Circle of life. Snake’s gotta eat. No, I take that back. I’d _pay_ to see Dinesh vs. diamond-back.”

“I can’t believe it!” Jared gasped. “The rabbit is chasing the rattlesnake.” He ran to the front door and cracked it open, letting a blast of heat inside. “I don’t know about you guys, but I’d just love to get a closer view of this remarkable phenomenon.”

The rest of the team ran out the door after him.

* * *

Dinesh spun around. “What… just happened?”

Richard scratched his chin. They were in the lobby of some kind of office building, but it definitely wasn’t in Palo Alto. For one, it looked like it had rained recently. 

“Where the fuck are we? We were just at the house!” Dinesh cried.

From the look on Gilfoyle’s face, he was regretting not knowing more than Dinesh and therefore not being able to mess with him.

“Oh dear,” Jared said. “This is quite bizarre.”

Richard dug his phone out of his pocket. “I’ve got no bars. How about you guys?”

“Same. And zero wifi signals in range,” Gilfoyle said. Jared and Dinesh murmured in agreement.

Richard sighed. “I’m gonna step outside and see if I can get a signal.”

The gang followed him out the front door to the parking lot. He felt uneasy as they walked past the rows of cars, which were all old models, yet in decently good condition.

As if he had read Richard’s mind, Dinesh piped up, “Check out these vintage rides. It’s like an 70’s car show is in town.”

Jared gasped - a large blur of black-and-brown feathers was falling from the sky. The bird landed on the pavement with a thump. He approached the fallen creature with reverence. “It’s a turkey vulture. He somehow died while he was up in the air.”

“Well, that’s not symbolic at all,” said Gilfoyle.

“Indeed, I’m sensing a motif here,” Jared said. 

“Look,” Dinesh said, pointing above them at the group of slowly circling birds. “The other buzzards are coming to cannibalize the dead buzzard.”

“Brutal _and_ efficient,” Gilfoyle approved.

“Guys, let’s go back into that building,” Richard said. “Maybe we can find someone to help us.”

“Wait for me, please!” A brown-haired woman carrying three bakery boxes was running up to them. Jared held the door open for her. “Thank you so much, sweetheart,” she said, Texas accent like syrup. “I figured I had time to grab some donuts - but gosh, y’all are mighty early! I’m Debbie, by the way.”

When the four of them didn’t move to follow her, she gestured with her head. They exchanged looks with each other. And then, like a game of Ouija, they all silently agreed to move in the same direction. Jared pressed the button to call the elevator, and the group shuffled inside.

“Which one?” Jared asked.

“That’ll be the fourth floor,” she said. “Thank you.”

The doors closed slowly, and the elevator began crawling up, unhurried. The gang filed out at the fourth floor and followed Debbie through the glass door. They were greeted by the company logo spelled out in large metallic letters: CARDIFF ELECTRIC.

“Large Conference Room is this way,” Debbie said.

The group trailed behind her, taking in the strange scene. Every piece of equipment, from the phones to the printers, was dated. The workers, most of whom were male, were dressed in muted shades of beige, brown, and yellow.

“Wow,” Jared said, smiling. “Everyone here really committed to an 80’s dress-up day. I’ve always wanted to do that at Pied Piper.”

“I don’t think they’re pretending,” Gilfoyle said. “Look at those cinder blocks on everyone’s desks. We’ve legit been transported to the 80’s.”

Jared laughed like Gilfoyle was telling a joke. Richard, who was craning his head around, nearly bumped into Debbie, who had paused in front of the conference room. She went inside, switched the light on with her elbow, and set one of boxes on the table, leaving two in her arms.

“Please, get comfortable. Help yourself to some donuts.” She gestured to the box on the table. “Now, normally I would give y’all a tour, but we’re under special circumstances. Hope you understand. So I’m just going to go chuck the rest of the donuts in the break room and then fetch John Bosworth real quick.”

Dinesh ambled into the conference room. Richard, Jared, and Gilfoyle seemed content to linger in the doorway and whisper to each other about the computer models.

“So, uh,” Dinesh said, mouth full of donut, “Are we just gonna stay here, or...?” At Gilfoyle’s dirty look, he added defensively, “What? Time travel makes me hungry.”

“Hey!” Richard waved at the man walking past the conference room. “Excuse me. Yeah, you with the mustache. What year is it?”

“It’s 1983,” he drawled, looking at Richard quizzically.

“And where are we?”

“Dallas, Texas. USA. North America. Planet Earth. Milky Way galaxy.” He sighed. “Should I continue?”

“No, that’s great, thanks,” Richard replied, with false cheer. “Just making sure nothing’s changed on me.”

The man shook his head and walked away. Before they could process, Debbie popped in her head back in.

“So sorry, John is on the phone right now. I’ll make sure he comes here straight after for your job interviews. Sound good?”

“Sounds good!” Richard nodded his head a little too enthusiastically.

Debbie smiled and hurried off.

Gilfoyle crossed his arms. “Why did you just do that?”

“I panicked, okay!” Richard said, visibly flustered. “Maybe we can just… slip out of here or something.”

“I don’t want to be interviewed,” Dinesh said thickly. He was working on his second donut. “Richard, go tell the nice Texas lady we aren’t here for interviews.”

Richard threw his hands up in the air. “Why not tell her yourself!”

“Because I’ve eaten one and a half donuts. Duh! It’s just awkward now.”

Jared pressed his palms together. “Guys, there’s no reason to panic. I find it helpful to think of job interviews as learning opportunities. In fact, one of my hobbies is staging mock interviews with myself. And I don’t hold back, either. I’m a real mean interviewer when necessary. You know, I always learn something new about my own personality.”

“Shit,” Richard said. “Someone’s coming, and he’s seriously pissed off.”


	3. throwback thursday

A man in a brown suit stalked over to them, followed by a frightened Debbie.

“Debbie,” he barked. “Tell me why these men are here.” He was fuming from the top of his balding head to the bottom of his leather loafers.

She glanced back and forth between him and the Pied Piper gang. “They’re here for the job interviews.”

“No, they are _not_. You know why? Because the job interviews were scheduled for _Friday_.”

“But today is Fri…” Debbie’s eyes grew wide. “It’s only Thursday. Oh gosh, Bos, I am so sorry-”

John pinched the bridge of his nose. “Cardiff Electric is at a critical time of product development. We can’t have unsupervised, unapproved folk coming and going here. Especially not IBM spies. Well, gentlemen? Are you spies from IBM? Or another company, perhaps?”

Richard opened and closed his mouth.

Gilfoyle chuckled under his breath. “Heh heh heh. IBM.”

“John,” said the man who was striding toward them at a brisk pace. “John, it’s fine. I’ll take it from here.” He was quite tall - taller than Jared, in fact - and the only person in the office wearing a black suit.

John deliberated for a moment before he lifted his hands in exasperated surrender. “Fine. I’m done.”

Debbie took care to avoid John’s warpath by going the long way around to her desk. The man ushered them inside the room and shut the door.

“Joe MacMillan.” His voice was deep, with no trace of a Texas accent. “Product Manager.”

He went around shaking everyone’s hands and learning their names. (Richard hallucinated that Joe’s grip lingered on him a split second longer than for anyone else.)

“I’m from New York myself, but I can see you gentlemen aren’t locals. Where are you from?”

Gilfoyle stared pointedly at Dinesh as he deadpanned, “We are from the year two thousand and-”

Dinesh cleared his throat loudly as he stepped on Gilfoyle’s foot. “Palo Alto,” he said. “He meant to say, we are from Palo Alto.”

“Ah. Pirates of Silicon Valley. That explains the...” Joe gestured at their collective manner of dress. “What brings you to the Silicon Prairie?”

“School,” Richard blurted out. “We’re, uh, students. At the ol’ U of Dally-o. Getting our Masters on.” He winced internally.

A knowing smile crinkled Joe’s green eyes. “Computer engineering, I take it.”

“Yeah, that. We, uh, came here to surprise our friend who works here, but uh, it looks like he doesn’t work here anymore, so we’ll just be going now.” Richard felt like kicking himself. He was babbling more than usual. Maybe it was the way Joe (unrealistically attractive, I mean _come on_ ) was looking at him. But his stare was less soul-piercing and more… soul-probing?

“Must have been Dave. Our Cameron was quite ruthless the other day. Well, she’s not taking off for vacation until tomorrow, so I’m sure she wouldn’t mind showing you around. Who knows, maybe some of you will consider joining our team.”

“We’re getting a tour?” Jared asked, unable to contain his enthusiasm.

“Of course. Please, follow me.”

“Dude, Throwback Thursday is lit,” Dinesh whispered to Gilfoyle, who rolled his eyes.

Joe led the gang downstairs to a dimly lit room which was less of an office and more of a dungeon on the cozier side. There were piles of food wrappers and crumpled papers spreading out from a desk in the center of the room, where a young woman with short blond hair sat hunched over her keyboard. She didn’t notice when they arrived, too busy bobbing her head to the music blasting in her headphones. The song was audible even from where they were standing; it sounded like a flock of rabid parrots mating with a jackhammer. (This warmed Gilfoyle’s cold, anarchist heart.) She blew a large gum bubble, popped it with her teeth, and started on another bubble.

“Cameron,” Joe said. When she didn’t look up, he touched her shoulder. She jerked away, startled.

“Oh.” She yanked down her headphones. “Yeah? What?”

Ignoring her irritated tone, Joe said, “Cameron, this is Jared, Dinesh, Gilfoyle, and Richard. They’re students at University of Dallas. I would like you to give them a tour of the place and maybe a glimpse of what you are doing.”

She looked over the gang, unimpressed. “Sure. Whatever. Just give me a few minutes to wrap up here.”

* * *

Cameron as a tour guide was unenthused and downright contrarian. She finished the whole tour within sixty seconds and then tried to pawn off the “babysitting opportunity” to a computer engineer named Gordon. Gordon was alarmed by her presence for some reason and shooed her away. Cameron then tried to send the gang off, but Dinesh refused to leave, insistent on seeing her project. After a show of complaining about how busy she was, she caved in and led them back to the coding dungeon. The gang gathered around her workstation.

“Whoa…” Dinesh breathed. His eyes flickered across the computer screen, taking it all in. “This section alone is a piece of history. Quaint, but at the same time, so beautiful I could cry.”

Gilfoyle slapped Dinesh on the back. “Congratulations. You’re code bisexual.”

“I’m not kidding. It’s, like, old school, but _legit_. Just gorgeous.”

“Like you know anything about BIOS.” Trying not to look too interested in the code was proving difficult for Gilfoyle.

“Can we adopt her?” Dinesh said. “Please, Gilfoyle. I want to adopt Tall Carla.”

“We’re not adopting Tall Carla. Besides, she’s technically, what, fifteen years older than you?” Gilfoyle paused. “You know, the first time I met Carla, I had an urge to call her ‘Short Cameron.’ Didn’t know where that came from until now.”

Before an increasingly confused Cameron could comment, Richard said, “You guys are building a PC.”

“Uh, yeah? Obviously. We’re gonna kick IBM’s ass. Well, my code will. Dunno about the other people on this project.” She examined her nails (short, bitten).

“So… you’re just, I dunno, letting us see your super secret stuff.”

“Please, you’re a bunch of harmless dweebazoids.” Cameron stood up and stretched, cracking all of the joints in her neck and back. “I gotta take a shit. Don’t burn the place down.”

After Cameron was out of earshot, Jared said, “Now that we’ve satisfied our curiosity and nostalgic needs, perhaps we should make a plan to get back to the 21st century.”

“No way.” Dinesh grinned. “I want to stay here for a little bit and low-key work. It’ll be, like, the easiest job ever. Who’s in?”

Gilfoyle snorted. “I’m not. Working here would be donating my labor. The chance of them cutting me a check that I can actually cash is zero.”

“Guys, I have a feeling that the longer we stay here, the more things are going to spiral out of control.” Jared looked to Richard for solidarity.

“Fuck!” Richard yelled. “Fuckity fuck. The Chinese thing. It was the Chinese thing. I hung it up over the door, and-and we walked out of the door, and now we’re trapped here forever.” He let out a crazed laugh. “It’ll be _years_ before technology and infrastructure advance to the level where I can do what I want.”

“Okay,” Dinesh said slowly. “So we’ll Goog - I mean, Yellow Pages us a bus to California.”

“And then what, Doc _Brown?”_ Gilfoyle said. “Even if we get back to Palo Alto, we’d still be in the wrong year.”

“I don’t know!” Dinesh was vulnerable.

Gilfoyle went in for the kill. “Why did you stomp on my foot earlier? That was uncalled for.”

“Because we shouldn’t stir up too much trouble while we’re here. You know, anything we do here could drastically alter the future - our present. Don’t you _read?"_

“Says the guy who wants to give Cardiff Electric his superior knowledge. You know, anything we do here, _we already did here_. According to the circular model of time, _we were already here_. Don’t you _read?"_

Joe MacMillan paused at the foot of the staircase. This was the scene before him: Dinesh and Gilfoyle were quarreling about time paradoxes. Richard had his eyes shut and was muttering about needing to wake up from the bad dream. Jared was hovering close to Richard, distraught over his team falling apart in front of him.

“Gentlemen,” he greeted, as if everything was normal. “Where’s Cameron?”

“She left us here unattended to answer the call of nature. She wasn’t concerned about intellectual property security because we are harmless dweebazoids.” Jared’s voice had risen to a maniacal pitch. “In fact, we are trash. No! No! I alone am trash for saying that we are trash.”

Richard’s eyes fluttered open when he heard his name being called. It was Joe, beckoning Richard to follow him to his office. In his stress-delirium, Richard had no will to resist. Especially not with that view going up the stairs. _Joe’s ass will save us_ , he thought nonsensically. _Joe’s ass is the key to getting home. No, that’s weird. Don’t act on that. ___


	4. whiskey

Joe's office was sparsely decorated but somehow looked nicer than the other rooms at Cardiff. Richard stood around, trying to look casual while entertaining fantasies of having his own office someday.

“How do you like your whiskey?” Joe had set out two whiskey glasses and was uncapping a bottle Richard didn’t recognize.

Richard shrugged. “I don’t.”

Joe poured two fingers of whiskey, neat, into each glass and slid one over to Richard.

“Uh, thanks.” He picked up the glass and swirled the whiskey around (was he supposed to do that?). Took a tentative sip. Yup, it tasted just as awful as he remembered.

“So, Mr. Hendricks. How’s your program going?”

“My program? Oh, my program. Um, it’s going well. Learning stuff, lots of stuff. Gonna graduate soon.” Richard took a too-large gulp on accident, and the whiskey burned his insides all the way down.

If Joe noticed Richard’s whiskey face, he didn’t comment. “Good, good. You doing a project or a thesis?”

“Thesis. It’s about, uh, data compression.” Richard shifted nervously: Joe had been edging a step closer to Richard with each question.

“Can’t say I’ve met any Dallas faculty researching data compression. Which professor are you working with?”

Richard hesitated a second too long. _Well, fuck._ He blushed angrily. With Joe standing this close (not close enough), he never had a chance. The man’s individual eyebrow hairs were in sharp focus. Damn, those brows were mesmerizing...

Joe broke the silence with a laugh. “Relax, Richard. I’ve never even been to the campus. And neither have you. You see, I consider myself a keen judge of character.”

“Oh yeah?” Richard said, petulant.

“Yeah,” Joe said, mocking Richard’s tone. “Cameron stopped by my office earlier. She called you ‘37% incompetent,’ which was her way of greenlighting you.”

“...You’re offering me a job? But none of you have even seen me code. I could be garbage, for all you know.”

Joe smiled into his whiskey glass.

“We both know that’s not true. I can tell by looking at you that your mind is racing faster than your mouth can speak. Calculating every possible outcome of every possible scenario.” He leaned down to Richard until their noses were almost touching. Richard’s eyes darted over to the window. No one was watching.

Joe pulled back with a laugh. “Feeling shy?” He paused at the sight of Richard’s face. “Are you okay? You look like you want to throw up.”

“N-no, I’m fine. This is my default face, actually.” Richard drained his glass to prove it. His head was abuzz. When was the last time he had eaten anything?

Joe walked over to the window. Richard stared, his brain flooding with a mixture of lust and horror. His reality was circling the drain, spiraling down... The first time he had felt any attraction toward Gavin was during the binding arbitration hearing. In the bathroom, Gavin had, quite unnecessarily, wrapped his arms around Richard to tie his necktie. Things escalated after that, with Gavin pursuing further excuses to see Richard, followed by Richard seeking out his uncomfortably familiar touch. Could it be that, all this time, he gravitated to Gavin because of Joe?

“Oh God,” he said aloud. Joe MacMillan was - is - his white whale of time and space. Moby _Dick_ , he thought hysterically. A twinge of guilt over Gavin tightened his chest; he quickly reminded himself that, one, they weren’t even a thing, and two, there were those two separate times when Gavin had called him “Peter” during sex.

Joe made eye contact with Richard as he pulled the blinds shut. “Did you predict this? You had to have known. I wanted you when I first saw you, back in the conference room.”

Richard looked down at the empty glass in his death grip. Made himself set it down. The desk had a smattering of handprints on its smooth surface, he noted. “Thought the whiskey was just some polite business thing.”

“Oh, it was,” Joe said, smiling. “I’m not entirely scummy. I only gave you two fingers. Why? Are you feeling it?”

“No,” Richard said, more petulant than before.

Joe sauntered over to Richard. Richard felt the backs of his thighs bump against the edge of the desk. Cornered. He sucked in a breath. This dream was really messing with his head. His eyes flickered across Joe’s face, taking it all in. _Old school, but legit. Just gorgeous._ He found himself searching, against his will, for traces of Gavin.

Joe grabbed a fistful of Richard’s shirt. “See, the thing about you is…” Lips brushing against Richard’s ear, he whispered, “You’re a horrible liar.”

A shiver ran through Richard’s body. “I guess that does it for you, huh,” he said, despite himself.

Joe slid his hands under Richard’s shirt, pushed up the fabric and ran his fingers along Richard’s taut ribs. “Let’s see how insolent you are after I fuck you senseless over the table,” he growled.

Joe’s hand moved down to his suit trousers. Slowly, teasingly, he unzipped himself and popped his heavy cock through the open fly. A small noise escaped Richard’s throat. Joe unbuttoned Richard’s jeans just as slowly and teasingly and pulled out Richard’s cock. Richard parted his lips for Joe’s two fingers, which pushed into his warm mouth until he gagged a little. Joe withdrew his saliva-coated fingers to wrap a hand around their erections and started rubbing against Richard. He took particular interest in Richard’s slit, using his other hand to smear the beading precome around the swollen cockhead. Peering at him through his dark eyelashes, Joe licked his own thumb for a taste of Richard.

“Fuck, Joe,” Richard panted as he thrusted into Joe’s palm. 

Joe silenced him with a kiss, hot and rough. His tongue was whiskey and bubblegum. Richard, kissing back hotter and rougher, threaded his hand through Joe’s hair. Satisfying. Less hair product than Gavin used. _Gavin… Gavin is thirteen years old right now. I haven't even been born yet. And Joe would be in his sixties if..._ His eyes flew open, checked out the pattern of handprints on the desk. One set of prints was made by a hand smaller than his. 

Richard jerked his head away and moaned/gasped, “I can’t do this. I’m sorry. I can’t.” _Am I a tragic hero?_ Joe’s slick cock nudged Richard's abdomen. _Yes. I am._

Joe retreated, curious. “You’re in a relationship. I figured as much, but that doesn’t stop some people.” He gave Richard’s thigh a lingering squeeze; Richard’s dick twitched in mourning.

“No,” Richard said, a little too loudly. “I’m not. It’s-it’s complicated. I’ve got this, um, enemies with benefits thing going on. Actually, that doesn’t sound so complicated, when I say it now. So… just know that I’ve filled my quota of rich, conniving assholes.” He paused for effect. “Besides, I don’t quite feel like being Eskimo siblings with Cameron, ten minutes after the deed.”

If there was a word for “simultaneously turned on, impressed, and offended,” that was Joe MacMillan. “Very astute, Richard.”

Richard untangled himself from Joe and took a moment to button up his jeans and tuck his hard-on away in the waistband. “Glad we have an understanding. I know you’re used to always getting what you want and stuff. Welp… so long, and thanks for all the booze.” He made a motion to exit the room, but stopped short - he wasn’t done here.

“Richard. Are you groping my ass after denying my sexual advances?”

Richard removed his hands. “Sorry. Had to try. It’s a time travel thing.” With that, he half-stumbled, half-ran out the door.


	5. bookends

“Bookends!” Richard yelled as he ran down the stairs.

A loud cheer erupted. Richard rounded the corner, confused. Cameron, Dinesh, and Jared were crowded around Gilfoyle, who was playing some sort of game on Cameron’s computer.

Jared crossed the room to greet Richard. “Welcome back, boss!” He blinked. “Are you tipsy?”

Richard laughed. “Nawww.”

“Are you sure? You look like you’re about to vomit.”

Richard shook his head too quickly, causing a wave of nausea. “I’m not gonna vomit. I’m having an epiphany. Heh, I guess they’re the same thing for me, sometimes.”

Jared was unconvinced. “Let me find you some water.”

“No! I mean, thank you, but I’ll drink water at home. I know how to get back now. All we have to do is go back the way we came. The door is the portal - it’s that fucking simple.”

“But we’ve been through that door before. When we went outside to the parking lot.”

“That wasn’t the right time! We just need to try again. If we continually ping the portal, eventually, it’ll be the right time to pass through.”

Jared thought about it. “The mental picture is… comical - no offense, Richard. But we could give it a shot.”

“You’re talking about brute-forcing the door,” said Gilfoyle as he and Dinesh joined the huddle. “Not interested.”

“Neither am I, but it’s all we got right now,” Richard huffed. “Look, it doesn’t have to be one of us that keeps testing the door. We could set up some sort of object to repeatedly pass through the threshold. When it disappears, we’ll know it's time.”

“Like a tennis ball machine… but not literally that, because our modern cash and credit cards are useless right now,” Dinesh realized aloud. “Damn, I was really hoping to find some food around here.”

“What are you guys talking about?” asked Cameron from her desk. 

“Nothing,” Dinesh said, at the same time that Gilfoyle said, “Time travel.”

“Just, ya know, hypothetically speaking,” Richard added. 

Cameron raised an eyebrow. “Oookay then. Well, if I were you, I would start by recreating the conditions that triggered the initial event.”

Jared lit up. “Omens! The last thing we saw when we went through the portal was the snake and the rabbit. And the first thing we saw when we came out of the other side was the vulture. Now, I can’t say whether the next omen would be animal-related or not, but it could be. I propose that we stand inside, right by the door, and wait for a sign from the universe.”

“Sounds like the laziest way to achieve our goal,” said Gilfoyle, “which means it’s the best.”

* * *

“Is a tumbleweed an omen?” Dinesh wondered.

“You already said that two hours ago.” Gilfoyle was leaning against the wall with his eyes closed. It was his supposed to be his turn to omen-watch, but Jared had gladly volunteered to take over. 

“I’m surprised no one’s kicked us out yet. We look like a bunch of loiterers,” Dinesh said, mostly to himself. “What happens if we’re still here when they close the building for the night?”

Richard was pacing back and forth. “I hate this. I hate not being in control of the situation. I hate how many times we’ve run through the door on a false alarm. You know what? Fuck you, universe. Fuck you so much.” He held up two middle fingers in the general direction of the cosmos.

A sudden jolt knocked everyone off balance. Within seconds, the ground was shaking so violently that their teeth chattered. Webs of cracks were spreading across the floor where they stood.

Dinesh nearly fell over but caught himself on Gilfoyle. “Ohhh shit! It’s a motherfucking huge ass earthquake!”

“Jared, move!” Gilfoyle pushed him out the door. The rest of the gang tumbled out.

* * *

There was a loud crash, followed by a string of insults in Cantonese about their respective mothers. Jian Yang was on the floor, clutching his shoulder in pain; beside him, an overturned chair. As Jared apologized profusely, Dinesh and Gilfoyle cheered their successful return.

“Sorry, man,” Richard said, sheepish. “What happened here?”

Jian Yang stood up gingerly. “Some idiot hang-ded up the time spiral sideways. It’s supposed to be upside-down. You hang upside-down, is a good luck. You hang right-side up, is a black magic. I tried to fix it. But it’s broken now.”

He gave the splintered spiral a good kick, sending the pieces skittering across the floor, before limping away to the bathroom.


	6. black box

Richard avoided Gavin for two whole weeks after the time travel incident. Granted, Gavin had left on the second week for a business trip, but Richard liked to think he would have been strong either way. Alas, he was unraveling at the seams. He was sleeping worse than usual, plagued by nightmares of drowning in a black ocean as giant creatures circled beneath him. He was horny all the time, to the point where jerking off was pointless - he needed his holes filled, like, yesterday. Three days ago, while Jared was giving Richard a back massage, Richard blurted out the Unspeakable Thing that would haunt his dreams for eternity. He couldn't even look Jared in the eye without triggering the shameful memory. If Jared (that tall, pale angel of discretion) felt the same, he didn't reveal it.

It was 10pm on Saturday night, and Richard was at home staring at the Uber app open on his phone. Gavin had arrived back in town that evening, but surely he needed some time to relax after all that travel? Then again, he had flown on his private jet, so… Richard grabbed his keys, stood up, walked to the front door. Stopped short of opening the door. Returned to the couch. Sat down. This was about to be the third ride he had requested only to cancel ten seconds later. He just knew that if he saw Gavin, he would for sure fuck things up, and Gavin would be angry. Not daddy angry, _scary angry._

His phone vibrated with a new text from “D.” _Come over_ , was all it said.

Richard, a good boy, went for a drive.

* * *

Richard entered the living room and took a seat on the couch, which was 40% comfort and 60% aesthetic, like most of Gavin's furniture. Gavin cracked open the bitterest of craft IPA’s and handed it to him. Richard accepted the odious drink because he figured he deserved it. Gavin sat down on the opposite couch - effectively miles away from Richard. They exchanged pleasantries about Gavin’s trip, a conversation that somehow applied logarithmic growth to Richard’s anxiety.

“Are you okay?” Gavin asked. “You look like you want to throw up.”

_“Why_ does everyone talk to me like I’m a perpetual vomit machine?” Richard said, unable to stop himself. “Oh, that Richard, he’s a human black box - input panic, output puke, nuh huh huh.”

The flash of concern on Gavin's face didn't suit him. “It's okay if you don't want to be here. I can drive you home.”

Richard chugged the last of his beer. The quark of vulnerability in Gavin’s voice definitely didn't suit him. “Can I get another one of these?”

Gavin got up. Richard followed him to the kitchen out of habit. He handed Richard another bottle; their fingers brushed together. Richard stared at Gavin. The ice-cold glass was numbing his hand.

“I hooked up with someone, kinda. Two weeks ago. Well, technically, it was before-”

Gavin raised a hand to shush him. “I thought we agreed, we don't have to tell each other these things. It will only complicate matters when I inevitably devour you.”

“Oh, are you still… when you said that in the restaurant, I thought it was, like, a foreplay thing.”

“It was, and it wasn't.” Gavin smiled in the least reassuring way possible. “Did you mean it as foreplay when you said it back?”

“I don't know,” Richard lied. “Anyway, I just thought that you should know, given the, uh, special circumstances.” 

Now Gavin was curious. “Special circumstances?”

Richard panicked. _Drink when Richard fucks it up._ He could feel it coming up his throat, like Lindsay Lohan in that one movie. “You gave me that Chinese frisbee, and I hung it up above our door, but I didn’t do it right because I’m Jon Snow. And sooooo this caused us - I mean, me and Jared and Dinesh and Gilfoyle - to be transported back in time to 1983 and across space to Dallas. We got a tour of this company, which was whatever. And there was this guy there. And yeah. Jian Yang ended up saving the day, but he broke the frisbee in the process, which is probably for the best, because that thing was not user-friendly, like, at all.”

“‘This guy’ - you hooked up with him?” Gavin was suddenly a lot closer to Richard than before, close enough for Richard’s body to react to Gavin's scent. _Drink when Gavin makes predatory advances._

“Like I said, kinda. I’m not gonna say his name, in case he exists in this universe and you go looking for him.” _Another fuck-up, drink again._

Gavin snorted. “I would never go looking for him, Richard. This-” he gestured between them “-is not a thing. So you don’t have to freak out.”

“Who’s freaking out?” Richard said, freaked out. He lifted the bottle to his lips.

“Stop with the mental drinking game.” Gavin plucked the beer out of Richard’s hand and set it on the counter. Richard made a disapproving noise. 

Gavin put his hand on Richard’s shoulder and squeezed gently. “If you want forgiveness, however unnecessary, for something you’ve done, just tell the truth. There’s no need to manipulate me with fake tales of space-time travel.”

Richard batted Gavin’s hand away. “I have _never_ manipulated you. Because I’m not _you.”_ He regretted the words as soon as they came out.

Gavin’s eyes were hadopelagic. _Scary angry._ “Really? What about when you stole the Nucleus phone prototype and leveraged it against me? Or when you schemed to get rid of my blood boy in order to get the patent? Yeah, I found out about that. Or all those times you showed up at my door, saying some dumb shit just to piss me off so I’d punish you sexually? Face it, Richard. There’s a reason you gravitate to me: you are becoming _me.”_

Richard’s face turned red. He could counter every single one of Gavin’s points, he really could. But maybe just this once, he wouldn’t open his mouth to receive his own foot.

Gavin sighed. He put his arms around Richard - _wait, what’s happening?_ \- and pulled him into a hug. Richard blinked. Gavin’s chest was warm and broad, and his pulse was slow and strong (seriously, this man had an impressive resting heart rate). Gavin rubbed Richard’s back in circular motions. Richard rested his chin on Gavin’s shoulder and exhaled his tension until his body was deflated. 

Closing his eyes, Richard said, “I think you’re the better version.”

Gavin just smiled and continued rubbing Richard’s back; he had switched to spiral patterns now. “Here’s what’s going to happen: I’m going to fuck your face, and then we’re going to cuddle in bed and watch your favorite show, the one I absolutely loathe.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> special thanks to the valley heat wave of september 2017 for filling my head with gay nonsense


End file.
